Waiting can be agony; what feels like a never-ending string of moments is the very thing that drives your mind to the edge of distasteful irritability. One after the other - each moment more unbearable than the last. We wish them gone, and ever so quicker we hope. We envision what the final moment will be like, our imagination runs wild with the prospects. The moment is built up - higher and higher. Like an alchemist, we believe our expectations will be turned to gold. For our eyes to be blessed with the Midas touch.